Mordor
"So this is the infamous Mordor. A depressing place indeed," one soldier commented.
"It is only a small campaign, they said. I hope I'll be retired when they start the big one," another replied.
"Stop complaining, you two, we're not here for a picnic!" their officer shouted.
Some paces ahead, the steward walked next to Gurnak.
"It is true, this is definitely not a place man would fight for," Faramir said to Gurnak, "if only I knew that the orcs would stay in here, I would leave it to them gladly."
"In fact it seems to me less bleak than I remember it," Gurnak replied. Then he suddenly stopped to pick up a small flower. Whilst walking he eyed it curiously.
"That is camomile, isn't it?" Faramir asked, "what is so interesting about it?"
"I have never seen any in this area before. It was not just a fancy, Mordor has changed since I have left it!"
A week after he had presented his plan, Gurnak now led the steward, a troop of fifty foot soldiers and twenty bowmen into Mordor. About a dozen rangers were with them as well, though most of the time they scouted and were not to be seen. They had not brought any horses, because Gurnak had told them that beyond the few paths that existed in that area, horses would be more of a burden than a help. Gurnak himself was equipped like a foot soldier, except that he did not wear a helmet, because he wanted his orcish face to be clearly visible. On his back he carried a crude, but functional tent that he had built.
A few minutes later a ranger approached them.
"We spotted some orcs, about the quarter of a league to the south-east. Three, apparently hunting."
"Lead the way, please," Faramir simply replied.
"I would like to say some words in the Black Speech. It will catch their attention more quickly then anything else," Gurnak explained to the steward, "Only: I am an orc and I am free. Well roughly that. Would you mind?"
"Roughly?" the steward inquired.
"There is no word for free in the Black Speech, so I will tell them I am my own chieftain."
"Won't they consider that a challenge to their chieftain?"
"Surely not more of a challenge than to lead a troop of Gondorian soldiers into his territory. It will only be a short introduction anyway. I will tell them in Westron, that I am here to talk, not to conquer. Their chieftain will come, because he will guess that otherwise some of his tribe might come to listen on their own and follow me. He might fear you, but the disgrace of losing his tribe would be a lot worse than to die fighting."
"Sounds sensible, do that," Faramir said, "How long do you think it will take them to bring their tribe?"
"Hard to tell, but not more than a day, I think."
"So you want us to stay here and wait for whomever for a whole day?" an officer intervened. "Wait for an army of orcs if the luck is against us."
"Even if this chieftain should be able to organise a small army, that will take him much more than a day," Gurnak replied, "I told you this land is barren and now that you are here you can see it with your own eyes, can't you?"
"Can't you just show your tent to the orcs that the rangers have found?" the officer asked.
"No! I don't expect all of them to follow me, most I guess will oppose the idea. If those three oppose it, they might not even deliver the message. And if they do deliver the message faithfully, those who consider accepting it might face a chieftain who would rather kill them than to let them go. And we would have to wait nevertheless. If the tribe comes here, however, we can protect the ones that want to leave."
"We will wait for a day if necessary," Faramir closed the matter.
"They haven't noticed us, but they heard you not too longer after we did," a ranger reported to the steward.
"We're not here to hide," Faramir replied. "Are they observing us?"
"Yes, they do," the ranger confirmed.
"So, it is your turn," the steward said towards Gurnak, "say what you have to say, but don't hurt our ears too badly with that ugly language, your fellows seem to hear well."
Gurnak stepped to the front where he could be seen well and with a loud and clear voice said a few words in the language of Mordor. Then he continued: "I am here to speak to you, to your whole tribe. I want to show you something and make you an offer. How long will it take you to bring them here?"
There a short and fervid discussion amongst the orcs, then two of them left and the third replied, "Those who want to listen will be here tomorrow morning."
Gurnak erected his tent about fifty paces off the main camp towards the watching orc and when the sun set, he went to sleep in it for the first time. The tribe must have marched over night, because he was hardly up again when a ranger guard informed him that the orcs were approaching. He bade the ranger to go back to the main camp, gulped down a hasty breakfast and waited for the things to come.
Minutes later the tribe came into sight, slightly over one hundred orcs. They were lead by a big orc who carried an enormous scimitar. He stopped when Gurnak was roughly in the middle between the tribe and the Gondorians.
"We have come to listen, so speak now, man-friend," the chieftain said.
"For as long we can remember, we have always fought and destroyed, we have suffered and died," Gurnak started. "Men were our enemies, except when the Eye allied us to some of them and even then they did not trust us and we did not trust them. When we were watched by the Eye, we slept in houses and tents, but where are they now? There is a better way to live! See this tent: I made it myself and you can learn to make one too, if you only want to. The leader of those men has offered us to live in a place outside Mordor. We can hunt in the forests and we can built whatever we want, they will not attack us, as long as we do not attack them any more."
There was some murmuring amongst the orcs, but the chieftain did not listen to it. Instead he walked towards Gurnak and his tent with purposeful strides. Gurnak looked back at the Gondorians and signalled them not to intervene. Right in front of Gurnak the chieftain stopped.
"You made the tent yourself? Melkor's bloody hammer, you look like an uruk, but you are worse than a snaga, you became a stupid white-skin yourself," the Chieftain shouted. "We are orcs, destroyers we are and that's how it should be. What ever is made, is worth to be broken, until nothing is made again. Havoc is our element!"
With the last words he drew his sword and so did Gurnak almost in the same instant. Instead of attacking however, the chieftain stepped aside and with few quick slashes he cut down the tent. Then he looked at Gurnak, grunted, spat out and finally attacked.
The chieftain hacked and slashed with fury and brutal strength. Gurnak had to step backwards, but he blocked all attacks seemingly with ease. Realising that he could not break through Gurnak's defence as expected, the chieftain backed away and waited for Gurnak to attack. Gurnak however simply stood and waited. This seemed to further enrage the chieftain, so he attacked again, even wilder than before. Once more the big crude orcish blade was blocked by the good Gondorian steel and after some more clashes it broke, leaving the chieftain with hardly more than the hilt. As if he had expected that, the chieftain leaped out of the range of Gurnak's sword. Again Gurnak only waited.
"You have won and now you don't even want to kill me, tent maker?" the chieftain teased him. "Whatever you are, you are not an orc. May you burn in the fires of Utumno!"
Having spoken these last words, he used what remained of his blade to cut his own throat.
Gurnak beheld the dead orc for a while, then he turned toward the rest of the tribe.
"Your chief is dead, you are free now," he shouted, "free to decide: you may choose a new chief in the usual way and go back to your old live. Or you may follow me and live without this endless fighting. It is a choice for every one of you."
There was only silence for a while, then an orc who looked as if he might become the next chieftain, stepped to the front.
"You will not change what we are, tent maker," he replied, spitting out the last word as if it was a horrible insult. "Go back with you white-skin chums. They have won the war and some day they might kill us all, but then we will die as uruks, not as crafting snagas."
The speaker turned and began to walk away. One after the other the rest of the tribe followed his example.
"Isn't there anyone who is tired of this life of yours?" Gurnak shouted pleadingly. "Anyone who wants to live in peace?"
One of the few remaining orcs slowly walked towards Gurnak. The rest stopped to watch.
"I am tired of my life," the orc said while he kept walking, "but there is only one way to find relief."
Suddenly he drew a dagger, stabbed it into his own chest, walked two more steps and collapsed.
The orcs cheered as if they had seen a glorious display of valour and now all of them walked away.
Gurnak walked back to the Gondorians with his head hanging.
"I have failed," he said, when he faced the steward, "I have failed completely!"
"You tried your best, nobody can do more than that," Faramir replied calmly. "It is not your fault that they stubbornly insisted that their way to live is the only way possible for orcs. 'Whatever you are, you are not an orc.' On the bright side you can say that this chief gave you a leave from your own kind. And I think not one of those who saw you today," he continued with a gesture that encompassed all the rangers and soldiers, "will consider you an enemy from now on. Herewith I grant you the right to live in Gondor freely!"
One of the soldiers drew his sword and started to bang it to his shield. More and more joined, the rangers, lacking shields, simply clapping their hands. Gurnak cheered up a bit.
"Thank you," he said without much enthusiasm.
"You do not sound too thrilled. Wasn't that exactly what you asked for originally?" Faramir asked.
"Yes it was, before I spoke to you. But you gave me new ideas and I embraced them. A village of orcs who think like me would have been nice and finding more of them would have been a task for life. Within Gondor, I suspect, I will always remain an alien to most, no permission of yours can change that."
"The second orc that killed itself, it was a woman, wasn't it?" one of the officers asked Gurnak while they walked back.
"Of course she was," a ranger replied instead. "You sound as if you have never seen a female orc."
"I haven't, at least not knowingly. But I admit that I did not look too closely so far. Dressed all in armour they are not so easy to spot."
"What did you expect them to wear? Dresses and make-up?" the ranger commented, answered by chuckles from his comrades. "A good deal of the orcs that fought on the Pelennor were female."
"That reminds me of an interesting detail, that you might possibly explain, Gurnak," Faramir added. "Rangers always knew how to discriminate orcs. For long years the raiding parties were all male. But then some years ago we encountered more and more female fighters. There have been various theories to explain that fact, but all more or less agreed that it was not a good sign. What can you tell us about that?"
"Well, in an orcish tribe the women are fighters like the men," Gurnak replied. "Chiefs are usually male, because they are typically stronger, though we have stories about female chieftains as well. Sauron did not care for our tradition, he wanted as many orcs as possible, which meant that for decades women were reduced to breeding. Then some day he decided: 'no more orclings'. Maybe he reckoned that he could not feed even more or he had already planned the end of the war and did not want any children that wouldn't reach fighting age by that time, I don't know. In any case while the children grew older, more and more of the women joined the ranks."
"I almost feel pity for them," commented the officer who had started the topic.